Archive for work

Somewhere in the unwritten laws of the cosmos there is a logic statement dictating that all managers must be dickheads. I’m not really sure who enacted this law, whether there was a vote, or if meeting notes were emailed out with action items, but whomever is responsible is definitely an asshole.

In the majority of any of the positions I’ve ever had, anyone with any sort of decision making power, managerial control, or ownership of the company has been a complete dickbrain. I’m not the only person with this curse either. In fact I can’t think of one friend, co-worker, or family member who hasn’t mysteriously been plagued by the same seemingly unending stream of jerk-offs all apparently cut from the same cloth.

So even though Darwin seems to have missed this KEY chain of evolution, lets examine it. Most of these guys had to work their way up just like us. They started as stockers in the supermarket, or working the mail room, or fixing printers, or laying sod, or putting up drywall for someone else’s company. These guys jockeyed desks and keyboards and task lists imprisoned in grey cubicles just like me. So did they start off as raging cockasses? I’d really like to think not. I’d love to imagine a world were people like that DIDN’T get rewarded for treating everyone they encounter on a day to day basis like utter dogshit.

The other more sinister option, that keeps me up at night grinding my teeth dreaming about schools of piranha ripping and tearing my oppressors apart, is that the actual TITLE of manager/owner/headfuckhoncho creates this brand of jerk. I envision the horrible (yet awesome) transformation scene from An American Werewolf in London were our protagonist becomes the wolf for the first time. In my minds eye I see this happening to normal everyday guys like me on the day they get promoted to VP of Sucking Off the Chairman. The hint of power corrupts their souls and they become some kind of mutant were-dick. Destined to exact revenge on all their helpless underlings for the years of oppression they had suffered at the hands of dickheads above them. Employing cleverly passive aggressive techniques like

” Thanks for putting in those 30 overtime hours last week, but you know you were 14 min late today. I really need you to be more of a team player ”

You know, the kind of psychological date rape tactics that should be reserved for re-runs of The Prisoner.

It’s an oft mentioned word. “Karma’s a Bitch”, you’ll hear people say all the time. The boomerang effect of all the evil you do. The problem though is it’s not very mindful of the need for vindication. See I badly need to be around when that asshole gets his. I want to be standing on the side of the street sipping slurpee when the gas truck overturns and pins the evil corporate fuck under it. I need to KNOW he burned alive for all the horrible shit he did to me and others. The few times i’ve made the effort to follow up on people I knew had a karma backlash aimed directly at their head I was pleasantly surprised.

White Trash Lead singer of 1st band?- Never could find a band to play with him again, laughing stock of home town, possible herpes, possible skin cancer- 6 years till karma payoff

Pretty good so far….but damnit if I haven’t had to wait for these things. Plus I then had to dredge up the memory of the injustices i’d suffered at the hands of these grade A human landfills. But this time….I really need Saturn to send this one back around quickly. This guy needs it. I imagine the universe has a bus sized enema ready and waiting for the right time for this asshole. To the leader who demands his team work 50,60,70 hours a week, but can be caught napping in his office regularly. To the greedy fat fuck who lays off people who haven’t worked for more than two weeks alongside people who worked 70 hour weeks for no overtime so his company could survive. To the simple minded child who lays these people off then spends thousands of company dollars on toys and non-sense. To you, you son of a bitch I say, KARMA IS COMING MOTHERFUCKER.

I just hope I’m on the sidelines the day she does show up to finally have her way with you. I hope i’m just lucky enough to be seated in a lawn chair sipping long islands and eating popcorn. And I hope she forgets to bring her lube.

So I used to work in this cube farm office, lifted directly out of the movie Office Space. The job was ok in that mindless automaton kind of way. I imagine it was very similar to the many thousands of office jobs that were only semi-technical inside a company that had been around for decades; the majority of the staff was near retirement, change was feared, the concept of double-clicking to open a file or folder was still alien to most, and everyone…..EVERYONE was a complete whacko just under the surface. Not like zany funny whacko who talks to office furniture either. These quacks were the kind of terrifying normally reserved for being cellmates of Gacy and Dahmer. Like the kind of mouthbreathing troglodyte who comes to work with his pants pockets filled with raw hotdogs….which he never eats….and tells people they are for his dogs….which he doesn’t own.

So after your mind is done recoiling in horror at that imagery let’s talk about cubicle etiquette. Particularly the kind dealing with food. For the majority of my time at this job the cubicle neighboor directly to my left was woman in her late 50’s. She was run of the mill office hen; couldn’t be nicer to your face, but also couldn’t wait to get to the cafeteria to cluck about everyone and everything. This was pretty standard in the office, gossip was the economy system that kept things moving. But the real crazies come out at night…..see we worked the late shift, so by the time everyone else left, a few of us stayed on for a few more hours. This is when Food Porn happened. Food Porn is a term I coined in trying to describe what occured only a few feet from me every night. See my neighboor was on every diet in the book. Being a bigger gal she knew that as soon as she was out of the room all the other hens were clucking away about her gecko tatoo that now resembled godzilla. So during the day she flaunted all the diets, and workouts, and pills she was on to the other hens, attempting to prove she was doing things right. But once they left, the game was up….and Food Porn was in full swing.

She would eat from the time they left, till the time we left. Everyone ate at their desks….and that wasn’t the problem. It was the noise. The sounds she made after waiting all day to dig into her buffalo chicken salad and salmon cakes and HUGE bowl of walnuts and nachos and meatball subs and onion rings……the sounds will stay with me for the rest of my time on earth. Every bite was a perverse squeal of joy that could only be akin to what it would sound like if you genetically spliced an oink and an orgasm. I don’t begrudge her eating a shit ton of junk food, I do the same thing regularly. What boggles the mind is that she did so in such a way with myself, and a few others sitting there listening to it. SHE HAD to be aware of the sounds she was making. Maddening. That’s the only word I have for it. AND THE SMELLS!!!! For god’s sake, and the love of all that is holy….if you work in an office DO NOT MICROWAVE FISH and bring it back to your desk where other humans are sitting. If you do this it is perfectly acceptable for them to use a staple remover on your genitals. DO YOU KNOW what microwaved 2 day leftover salmon smells like??? It smells like toolshed sex. The smells and the sounds made such a perfect mixture that if i closed my eyes the only thing I could see was a roman orgy dipped in KFC gravy…….scarred for life.

It’s really unfortunate that i’m feeling the need to get this shirt made. It should really never be a question to the balding fuck who makes about 60k more a year than he’s worth that everything out of his sodasucking lips should not be a sarcastic quip or condescendingly dismissive remark. It only takes one of those to push a guy who’s having a shitty day far enough to stroll calmly out to his trunk, extract the largest wrench from his ratchet set and return to the office to smash the fatass’ face into a fine red pulp.

I get that you are edgy brah….But it starts to wear thin…..oh about 9 seconds into the realization that YOU ARE ALWAYS LIKE THAT. Fuck you for getting paid in excess of 50$ an hour to work a cushy desk job and STILL having a chip on your shoulder. Oh wait that’s a dorito…..my mistake. If you are sooooo jaded from working at a place WHERE YOU MAKE GREAT MONEY TO DO SOMETHING YOU LOVE, then fucking quit. But so help me, take it out on me one more time, and i’m going to hook your hands up to a car battery just long enough so you lose the fine motor skills you get paid so well for. Then you can enjoy finding another career as cushy as this one. Maybe you’ll get lucky and find something that capitalizes your other talent of being an asshole all day. Otherwise I think your remaining skillset qualifies you for many fine careers in janitorial and food services.